Kiss Me Now That I'm Older
by the ultimateSora
Summary: It's Arnold's 18th birthday, but everything doesn't exactly go according to plan. Will the end of the day make it all worth it, or will it be the worst birthday ever? Strong T for language and things.


**note:** I love Arnold, and I wanted to do a oneshot about him. Plus, the amusing image of what Phoebe gives him for his birthday popped in my mind, so here 'tis. :)

don't own MSB, and title is a lyric taken from The Strokes song "12:51".

enjoy!

* * *

**kiss me now that i'm older**  
by, the ultimateSora

**Friday, February 25th  
11:59:10 PM Central Standard Time  
Ralphie Tennelli's basement  
Walkerville, Texas, USA**

Arnold looked at his watch. "10...9...8...7...6...5...4...3...2...1..."

**Saturday, February 26th  
12:00:00 AM Central Standard Time  
Still Ralphie Tennelli's basement  
Still Walkerville, Texas, USA**

"Well, it is now officially my 18th birthday," Arnold said, climbing onto the back of the couch, his feet on the cushions. "But I'm not officially 18 until 2:38 AM."

Carlos was tossing an orange ping-pong ball in the air over and over when he said, "Nah, man, go with midnight. Your birthday is the 26th. Midnight is officially the 26th."

Arnold shook his head. "I go by the official time. 18 years ago, I was still technically in my mom."

Ralphie grimaced. "Gross."

Tim got up from the chair he was sitting on. "Well, man, we got a surprise for you." He went to the refrigerator and pulled out a 30-pack of Bud Light.

Carlos got up and helped Tim display the beer. "A case of 29 beers!"

"Carlos!" Tim snapped.

Carlos shrugged. "What? I carried it so I deserved one."

Arnold smiled. "How'd you guys get beer?"

Ralphie smirked. "Perks of having a girlfriend with a fake ID from Florida."

Carlos shook his head. "I still would love to know how Wanda got a fake ID from Florida."

Ralphie shrugged, and Tim handed them all beers. He, Ralphie, and Carlos all toasted Arnold, and Carlos said, "So now that just leaves Ralphie to turn the big 1-8."

"That may be, but at least I'm not the youngest in this little eight some we call 'the gang'," he pointed out. He nodded towards Arnold. "His girlfriend is still jailbait."

"So is yours," Arnold shot back.

Ralphie grinned. "But so am I. You and Phoebe can't do it 'cause it'd be illegal."

"Well, then I guess I should be arrested because I was a good two months or so ahead of D.A. after I turned 18," Carlos said. "But she's 18 now, too, so..."

Ralphie held up a finger. "But see...Phoebe looks like she's a six foot tall 12 year old. So, she _looks_ like jailbait while _being_ jailbait. Wanda at least looks her age."

"She's five-eleven," Arnold corrected, irritated. "And she doesn't look like she's twelve."

Tim nodded. "Twelve year olds have bigger tits."

Arnold threw his empty beer can at him, but his lack of throwing skills made the can fly a good two feet away from Tim's head. He got up to get himself another beer. "Phoebe has decent boobs," he said. "Just because she isn't a B or a C like Wanda and D.A. doesn't mean anything."

Carlos cocked an eyebrow. "Isn't Pheebs like a double-A?"

"Shut up," Arnold snapped.

"And didn't you say when she's on her back, you could do tequila shots off her chest because it caves in?" Tim asked.

"_Shut up_!" Arnold yelled at both of them.

Ralphie clapped his hands together. "Well, changing this exciting subject a bit, we have another gift." He went to the storage closet and pulled out a beer bong. "Ta-freakin'-da!"

"A beer bong?" Arnold asked. "Are you guys trying to get me wasted?"

"No," Ralphie said. He skipped a beat. "Yes." He held the end out to him. "Birthday boy has the first go."

Arnold furrowed his brow, but he readied himself to chug the beer. He put his mouth on the end of the tube, and the guys began pouring the beer in the funnel at the top.

* * *

Mark Terese was up at eight o'clock, like he usually was on Saturday morning. Like every Saturday morning, he poured himself some coffee, grabbed the Saturday edition of _The Walkerville Morning News_, and went out to the back porch to read the paper on the porch swing. But unlike other Saturday mornings, he found his only daughter's boyfriend passed out in his boxer-briefs on the porch swing. Fortunately, that February had been a "warm" one, and the low through the night had been in the fifties. Mark sighed and set his coffee and paper down on the patio table. He went over to the swing and pushed it hard, Arnold waking up quickly. His glasses were askew, his hair messy, and he had the words "I GOTS A TINY PEE-PEE" written (in Carlos' handwriting) in permanent ink across his chest. 

"Arnold, what the hell are you doing passed out on my back porch?" Mark asked.

Arnold sat up and realized he was half-naked. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "Mr. Terese, I wish I could tell you."

Mark went to the door and yelled inside, "Phoebe! Backyard! _Now_!"

A little less than a minute later, Phoebe trotted outside in her pajamas and found her boyfriend in his underwear sitting on her dad's usual morning spot. She went over to Arnold and sat down beside him. "Let me guess...the guys did it?" He nodded. She kissed his cheek and took his hand in hers. "Happy birthday, anyway."

He scratched his head and ran his fingers through his hair. "Can I borrow the Jeep? The guys took my clothes, which included my keys, wallet, and cell phone."

She nodded. "Sure. D.A.'s coming by later to pick me up, so I don't really need it today." She got up and went in the house.

Mark turned to Arnold. "Do you normally end up naked when drunk?"

Arnold got up and held his hands up. "Sir, I've never been drunk...except for last night. But that was it."

Phoebe came back outside and handed Arnold the keys. He kissed her cheek. "I'll bring it back. Promise."

She took his arm before he left. "Just remember...rubbing alcohol will get that marker off."

He nodded, smiling, and he went over to her Grand Cherokee in the driveway, getting in, and driving off. Phoebe and Mark watched him go, and he sighed. "Why did I approve of you dating him?"

Phoebe smiled and kissed her dad on the cheek. "You love him, daddy."

"Gets drunk and passes out naked in my backyard. Yes, what's _not_ to love?"

* * *

Arnold drove home (forgetting she drove a standard, but glad he knew how to drive one, thanks to her), parking behind his Toyota SUV in the driveway (Tim had driven him to Ralphie's the night before). He walked in the backdoor of his house to find Jean, his mom, putting breakfast on plates and Stephen, his dad, reading the paper at the kitchen table. He grimaced when he saw his mom with the food. 

"You didn't cook, did you?" he asked.

Stephen looked up. "Oh, holy hell. What happened to you?"

"The guys," was all he had to say. "I think they stole my wallet."

Jean shook her head. "Well, go clean up. And _no_, I didn't cook." It was well known that Jean Perlstein couldn't cook to save her life. The Perlsteins usually just ordered from a catering company or Thai food take-out.

He went upstairs and used half a bottle of rubbing alcohol to get the marker off, and after he showered, he threw on a fresh pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt. He went downstairs to eat the ordered in pancakes and eggs (all organic, as Jean was health conscious).

"So what do you and the boys have planned for today?" Jean asked.

Arnold shrugged. "Dunno. But first I'm going to kill them so I can get my stuff back, then we'll see." He finished eating and went to the door. "I'll be back later."

"Wait, before you go," Stephen said. "We got you a birthday present."

Arnold hoped it was one of three things: 1) a new wakeboard, 2) new rock climbing shoes, or 3) a new rock cleaner. He had been asking for one of the three since two Chrismukkahs ago (when he and Phoebe began dating, they celebrated Chrismukkah together, she bringing the Chris and him the Mukkah). Stephen came back to the kitchen holding a small box.

Arnold forced a smile as he opened it to find a gift card to Best Buy. "Oh, um, thanks."

Jean smiled. "We figured this way you could buy what you wanted."

"Thanks." He hugged his mom and patted his dad's shoulder. "I'll see you two later."

He already had a very extensive music collection, and he didn't really watch movies (except _Jurassic Park_, which he and Phoebe coined as "their movie") or play video games, so he felt the card was useless. He walked out to Phoebe's Jeep, and he got in, glad that they had a lot of the same taste in the music. He was trying to decide between Spoon and Death Cab, and he went with Spoon. He smiled at the picture of him and her she had taped on her dashboard, and he noticed the rosary she had hanging from the rearview mirror. He always wondered why Catholics kept images of Jesus being crucified around (like the Crucifixes Mrs. Terese had above every doorway of their house), but he never bothered to ask her.

His first stop was Carlos' because he had the feeling Carlos would have been the one behind stealing his clothes and valuables. He parked in the street outside, and he walked up to the front door. He rang the bell and knocked a few times, and Mikey answered.

"Hey, Arn, here for your things?"

He nodded. "Your dumbass brother here?"

Mikey shook his head and wheeled aside. "No, but your things are up in his room."

Arnold walked in. "Thanks, man."

He waked upstairs to Carlos' pigsty (though, it wasn't as bad as Ralphie's room), and he found his phone, keys, and wallet on Carlos' desk. He opened the wallet to make sure his license, credit cards, and cash were still in it. His cash was gone (it had been $35), and he knew they got beer with it. He pocketed his things, grabbed his clothes they took (they were on the floor), and went downstairs. He said bye to Mikey, and he knew the guys were at Ralphie's. After he put the pullover he had been wearing the night before (that they stole), he drove the two blocks over, and he parked in the street. He went to the side of the house and down the steps to the basement where he found the guys and laughing and drinking beer.

"You _assholes_!" he yelled, hitting all three on the backs of their heads.

"Take it you didn't like your surprise this morning?" Ralphie asked.

"Well, if you jackholes had actually seen my 'pee pee', you'd know that it's not tiny," Arnold said with a smirk. He went over to Ralphie and ruffled his mess of hair. "Unlike Ralphie here, who's half the size of a hot dog."

Ralphie grabbed him, and pulled him over the chair, flipping him over to the floor. The two wrestled on the floor, and Ralphie, being almost sixty pounds heavier and three inches taller than Arnold, easily held him down. Tim got up and went over to them.

"C'mon, we can't hurt the birthday boy. Remember, we're taking him somewhere today."

Ralphie got off of Arnold, and Arnold pulled himself up from the concrete floor. He brushed the dust off of him and asked, "Where are you guys taking me?"

* * *

Half an hour later, the four were in Carlos' truck heading east on Interstate 20 towards the Louisiana state line. Arnold was in the front with Carlos, looking out the window. "So, why exactly are we going to Louisiana?" 

Ralphie snorted. "You mean 'Loserana'."

Arnold turned around and punched him hard on the arm. "Pheebs was born in Louisiana."

Ralphie winced from the pain. "I know! That's why I said it!"

Arnold punched him again and turned back in his seat. Ralphie smacked him on the back of the head, and Arnold whipped around, the two smacking one another until Tim got between them and pushed both back away from each other. Arnold got his phone out and texted Phoebe.

_pheebs, guys taking me 2 LA. if not back by 8, sorry._

She texted back a minute later: _dont want to know why youre going to LA. have fun. dont get arrested._

_love you_.

_love you more._

"Are you done having phone sex with Phoebe?" Carlos asked.

"He'd have to have sex with Pheebs to have phone sex," Ralphie snorted.

Arnold rolled his eyes. "Ralphie, just shut up."

They were soon passing over the state line, and Arnold turned to Carlos. "So, again...why are we going to Louisiana?"

"Well, first we're going to stop and let you buy your first legal _Playboy_," Carlos answered. "And then we're going to this casino in Bossier City that allows 18 and over to gamble."

Arnold pointed to the backseat with his thumb. "Ralphie's still 17."

"Fake ID, bro," Ralphie said, smirking.

Arnold groaned. "I don't have time for us to go gamble in Bossier City. I need to go back to Walkerville to renew my license. I was driving earlier with it expired."

"Listen to the boy scout," Ralphie mocked. "'Oh, boo hoo, my license expired today!'"

"Ralphie, I swear to God..." Arnold warned, closing his eyes, his nostrils flared.

Carlos pulled over at a gas station outside of Shreveport, and he open-handed smacked Arnold on the chest. "Go get your new _Playboy_, bro."

Arnold grunted. "Fine, but Ralphie's going with me so if you decided to bail, you're leaving him too."

Carlos turned to the backseat. "Go with him, man."

Ralphie groaned, and the two got out. They walked in the convenience store, and they went to the magazine rack. Arnold grabbed the first _Playboy_ he saw, and Ralphie went to get a Mountain Dew. The two went to the counter, and Ralphie tried to make Arnold pay for the drink.

"Just the...the uh, magazine, for me," Arnold said, his cheeks somewhat pink. "Drink's his."

The old man behind the counter nodded, and Arnold paid for his magazine, leaving Ralphie to pay for his drink. They got back in the truck, and Arnold tossed the _Playboy_ to Ralphie.

"Have fun back there. Tim, I'm sorry."

Tim shrugged. Carlos drove back to the interstate, and they headed east across Shreveport to Bossier City. Carlos looked in his rear view mirror to Ralphie. "Hey, man, you got your fake ID?"

Ralphie got out his wallet to check. "Yeah."

"You sure it'll work?" Arnold asked. "I mean, he could get arrested."

"It'll work, _mom_," Carlos said. "And notice I said 'mom' because you're pretty like a girl." Arnold frogged him. "Ow! Hey, man, don't hit the driver!" He rubbed his upper arm where Arnold hit him. "Damn, who knew Pretty Boy Perlstein could hit so hard?"

"I did," Arnold said, hitting him again.

They crossed into Bossier City, and Carlos found the casino they were looking for. The four got out, and they walked in. The guard at the door held out his hand. "Can I see ID's please?"

Carlos pulled out his wallet. "Yes, you can."

He checked them through after checking their ID's, Ralphie's fake one managing to fool the guard, and they went out to the gambling floor. Arnold and Carlos decided to get in on a poker game, as the two were excellent poker players, and Tim went to the slots. Ralphie decided to go play some blackjack, and the four would meet up later.

"I can't believe Ralphie managed to get in," Arnold whispered to Carlos when they sat down at a poker table.

"Gotta admit, I am too," Carlos whispered back.

"The game is Texas Hold 'Em," the dealer said, passing out cards and chips.

Carlos smiled at Arnold. "Sweet. You and I are geniuses with this game."

Arnold nodded in agreement. Carlos' uncle taught them how to play Texas Hold 'Em, Mississippi Stud, and various other poker games, but the boys' favorite was Hold 'Em. They played for about half an hour, Arnold winning, when Ralphie came running over to them.

"Guys, we gotta leave," he hastily whispered to them. "I think they're onto me."

Arnold took his winnings, and the three found Tim and quickly left. Arnold looked irritated when he said, "You know, Ralphie, you could have gotten arrested if they caught you."

The four got in the truck, and Carlos started the engine. Ralphie laughed, "Yeah, but I didn't."

Carlos drove back to the highway, and Arnold would just be glad to be back in Walkerville.

* * *

The line at the DMV at 5:11 in the evening was ridiculous. The office would close at seven, and fortunately for Arnold, the long line went fast. He would get his new license in about two weeks, and until then, he had his paper one stashed safely in his wallet. 

The guys took him to dinner at Hooters, which didn't make him too happy. He wasn't into tanned, busty blondes, except for the short time he and Dorothy Ann dated. They had been each other's rebounds when she and Carlos broke up the first time, and he had broken up with his girlfriend. He liked to hold that over Carlos' head sometimes (when Carlos wasn't moody).

Carlos popped him on the shoulder when they were seated. "Well, look at it this way, man. You'll see real jugs before you see Phoebe's tonight."

That remark earned Carlos a black eye.

After dinner, the four went to Ralphie's to hang out before Arnold went home to meet with Phoebe to do their birthday tradition of watching the _Jurassic Park_ trilogy (they did that on both his and her birthdays). She texted him to tell him to come home at eight, and it was only 7:03.

Carlos had a cold beer on his swollen, bruised eye while he drank an open one. "Arnold, you son of a bitch, how am I going to explain that _you_ were the one to hit me?"

"Just say 'Arnold hit me because I was being a giant douche'," Arnold simply answered. He got up. "I'm leaving. I think I had enough of you idiots today to last me a while."

"See you tomorrow?" Ralphie asked.

Arnold nodded and went up the stairs. "Later, douches."

He got in Phoebe's Jeep and pulled out his phone to text her:

_im leaving r's. stopping the store right quick._

She texted back:

_ok. im at ur house. see you in a few. love you._

_love you more_.

He pocketed his phone, and he stopped at the store to get her a flower. He didn't care that it was his birthday; he wanted to get her a little something as a thanks for putting up with him for the past two or so years and for letting him borrow her car. He drove home, and he was surprised to see his Toyota parked in the street (meaning his parents were out, as they moved his truck to get out).

He parked the Jeep in the driveway, and he got out, rose for Phoebe in hand. He walked upstairs, expecting to find her in the upstairs den, but she wasn't. He heard music coming from his room, and he walked in. What he saw made him want to faint from extreme arousal.

Phoebe was standing there in a blue sequined outfit with tight silver leggings, much like an outfit Molly Cule would have worn. Her short auburn hair was done up big, and she was wearing a lot of blue eye make-up. Arnold knew she was fulfilling his Molly Cule fantasy. He couldn't move his mouth; all he could do was stand there.

Phoebe smirked, and in a botched Southern accent, she said, "Sugar, you can have _all_ of me..." She slowly made her way to him. "Down to the very last..." She ran her hands down his chest and gave him a quick, but deep, kiss. "..._bit_."

His lips were stained with the red lipstick she was wearing, and he gulped. "Oh...oh...Phoebe...this..." He smiled. "This is the best thing that's happened to me all day." He cupped her cheek and kissed her. "I love you so much, and I'm about to explode if we don't get naked soon."

She smiled. "So you like it? The girls thought--"

He put his finger to her lips. "Shh...just let me...just let me stare for a bit." She nodded, and he stepped back, getting a good look. "Oh, you are the best girlfriend ever, Phoebe."

Phoebe giggled. "Okay, but for tonight...I'm not Phoebe." She kissed him and unbuttoned his jeans. "I'm 'Molly'."

* * *

Both Arnold and Phoebe were breathing hard, trying to catch their breath, and they were drenched in sweat. Phoebe was on her side, the sheet just barely at her waist, and she ran her long fingers down his chest. They had just had the most energy filled and exciting sex ever, and both weren't sure how to react to that. Arnold reached over to the bedside table where he left her rose, and he gave it to her. 

"What's this for?" she asked.

"For being you," he said with a smile.

She smiled and kissed his bare shoulder. "You're so sappy."

He grinned. "Only because you like it." He turned on his side so he could look at her. "You're like a really good girlfriend. And after a day of having 'tiny pee pee' written on my chest and my money stolen and Ralphie almost getting us arrested for being accessories and almost breaking my hand to give Carlos a shiner..." He cupped her cheek, his fingers intertwining with her auburn strands. "...this just makes up for the whole day." He kissed her. "Thank you, Pheebs. For being you."

She giggled. "Well, now I know the best way to cheer you up is to dress up as mid-90's pop stars and sex you up."

He smiled. "Definitely. But do you think next time you could dress up as Sporty Spice? Or maybe Posh Spice?"

She pinched his hip. "I'll think about it." She pulled him closer, and she gave him a long, deep kiss. "Happy birthday, Arnold," she said, her lips brushing against his.

He looked at his watch. "Well, in 5...4...3...2...1..."

**Sunday, February 27th  
12:00:00 AM Central Standard Time  
Arnold Perlstein's bedroom  
Walkerville, Texas, USA**

"My birthday is officially over."

She smiled, her arms wrapping around his waist. "Well, we still have July 13th to look forward to. Are you going to fulfill _my_ fantasy?"

He chuckled. "Well, I guess since you put on make-up and sequins, I suppose I can put on a sweater vest...and I _suppose_ you can call me 'Archie'."

She giggled and kissed him. "You're a really good boyfriend."

* * *

**note:** yes, this is a one shot, so I will not be writing more to it. ;) 

reviews equal love.


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